Deadwood s01e01 Episode Script
Deadwood
Is that some sort of a letter, Marshal? - Journal.
- Journal.
Good.
You know, I was goin' to Deadwood, same as you.
- Is that so? - I had my plans about set.
I only wish to Christ I could get these past three days back.
I can imagine.
No law at all in Deadwood, is that true? Being on Indian land.
So then you won't be a marshal? Taking goods there to open a hardware business, me and my partner.
If I'd have got there, I'd have been prospectin'.
Jesus Christ Almighty.
No law at all, gold you can scoop from the streams with your bare hands, and I gotta go and fuck myself up by supposedly stealing Byron Samson's horse.
It's poor damn timing at the least.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome.
I'm sorry as hell about your shoulder.
Flesh wound.
Don't look like it wants to infect.
Well, never mind flesh wounds, sir, when you are goin' to meet your maker, you don't feature telling him that you shot a marshal in the shoulder for only doing his legally ordained job.
He may have heard worse stories.
God? Well, if he ain't, I'll tell him six or seven just on people of my own personal acquaintance.
I'd like to suggest an idea to you, sir, that I pray as a Christian man you will entertain on its own fuckin' merits.
Does it involve letting you go? I know two scores, Mr.
Bullock, that we could make in transit without moving People with cash on hand, and if once we hit Deadwood and you didn't want to have anything to do with me, we'd never speak again.
We would meet as strangers the rest of our fuckin' lives.
Now you tell me what you think of that, sir.
It don't appeal to me.
Get the fuck out of here for a moment, would you, sir? Byron Samson's comin' for him.
Sir, would you please get the fuck out till we have finished our previous conversation? - How many backing his play? - A dozen, shit-faced.
Samson caved in Tommy Raymond's head at - the No-Name Frog.
He went against it.
- What are you conversing at? Jesus Christ! Come out and talk to us, Bullock! Now who is that? That sounds like Byron Samson.
- Yeah.
- What would he want? Now tell me what kind of fuckin' luck I got.
All you're doing stalling, Bullock, is pissin' me off! 'Cause I guarantee you ain't making it through in there till sun-up! So why don't you climb out from behind your badge, and your big brick building, and you bring Clell Watson out here so we can give him what he fuckin' deserves! What have we got here? Whoa! It's a Jew on a wagon! Yeah, right out here in the alley! I'm executing sentence now and he's hangin' under color of law.
You and your partner plan on making Deadwood, Marshal, do not try for this scaffold.
That's a deal, you loud-mouthed cocksucker! You hear this? Oh! Wait, this ain't right.
My sister was comin' in the morning.
- What would you have her told? - That's not enough of a drop.
I'll strangle for 20 minutes.
I'll help you with the drop.
Get up and say what you'd have your sister told.
Do not tether that rope off of that porch! Any more gunplay gets answered.
You called the law in, Samson.
You don't get to call it off just 'cause you're liquored up and popular on payday.
You don't tell us what to do and what not to do, 'cause you're leaving Montana anyways! Now do not jump off of that stool, you cocksucker! Or what? You'll kill me? You tell my sister if my boy turns up, raise him good.
What else? Tell her give him my boots.
What else? Tell him his daddy loved him.
Tell him he has God's forgiveness.
Anything else? You help me with my fuckin' fall! Come ahead.
Fuck you! Stay back! Move the fuck back, while my partner while my partner's taking his sweet-ass time writing whatever the fuck he's writing over there! Who'll give his last words to the sister? None of you better fucking move! Shit! I'll do it.
Thank you.
- Let's go.
- Hee.
Move ahead! Move out of the way! - Move! - Jesus Christ, come on! - What's going on! - Move it up there! Same damn wagon that broke down yesterday, Bill! That's the hold up, huh? Same wagon and no damn room to maneuver.
Sounds like it's tighter out there than a bull's ass in fly season.
- How's your headache? - Not bad.
You want me to canvass for whiskey? That's all right, Jane.
Believe me, we're stuck here a fucking while.
I know your canvassing techniques.
I don't want any casualties on my conscience.
It's only Wild Bill Hickok you got stalled here in the muck! You ignorant fucking cunts! We're out here the whole goddamn day? What a goddamn circus! Shit.
- We've got no water! - All right, friend.
Let's go! Come on, now, come on, now, come on.
Chickens for sale! $3.
00 a pair.
Get your chickens here.
This lot rents at 20 a day, Seth.
- $20 a day.
- Tent only, no construction.
Corner location.
In advance, every morning, to Mr.
Swearengen at the Gem.
- Where's the Gem? - You'll find it.
Everybody does.
Eight ounces of gold at $20 an ounce is 160 plus $10 for a half-ounce makes 170 total.
Inform your dealers and whores of my credit, and pour me a goddamn drink! Honor and a pleasure, my good man.
for Ellsworth.
Yes, sir, I'll let everybody know.
Lot four, some hardware guys.
First one today with this hand.
And pour me another, my good man.
Here comes another.
- Lot four a stayer? - Wagon loaded with goods.
Now with that limey damn accent of yours, are these rumors true that you're descended from the British nobility? I'm descended from all of them cocksuckers.
Well here's to you, Your Majesty.
I'll tell you what, I may have fucked my life up flatter than hammered shit, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker, and working a paying fucking gold claim.
And not the U.
S.
Government saying I'm trespassing, or the savage fucking red man himself, or any of these limber dick cocksuckers passing themselves off as prospectors had better try and stop me.
They'd better not try it in here.
God damn it, Swearengen, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, but I enjoy the way you lie.
- Thank you, my good man.
- You're welcome, you conniving, heavy-thumbed motherfucker! Watch out! That's her derringer.
I warned you about that loopy cunt! Keep your own tally! Oh, have no fear on that score.
I said not to beat on me! I told him! Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson - You got any other guns? - No, I don't got any more.
Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson Ticonderoga, New York did you find it? Barnett Robinson.
That's who to notify if this thing goes wrong.
Yeah, I've got it right here.
- How you doing, Trixie? - I told him, don't beat on me, Doc! - No one asked for your version! - Said I robbed him and he started beating on me.
And I didn't rob you! - I don't remember.
- I didn't, God damn it! Aw, she shot me right in the head.
D-don't put your fingers in it.
Oh yeah, is it bad, Doc? Shh, shh, shh.
Get the Chinaman! Sure would like to know how he lasted for 20 minutes.
Shot straight to the brain.
So prospect in him till Dan brings the Chinaman.
Do you mind if I take him to my place? Sure.
Help the doc with this guy, bring the Chinaman to the Doc's.
I'll bring that sled right in, Doc.
Doc, you drink free today.
And I hope any word of this would keep the gun out of the whore's hand.
- That wouldn't come from me.
- Bastard did himself in.
- Come here.
- I said to stop.
Tell me in my office.
Get the gimp to clean this place up.
Ugh, Doc! You know there's something peculiar about this man's cerebral setup or they can just write off the forebrain as being the center of thought and speech.
Let's just get him on the sled.
Of course it won't matter to Mr.
Wu's pigs.
Whiskey.
I've got an urge to see that camp, Charlie.
All right - Can we leave you with the stock, Jane? - Yeah.
Bill and me are gonna ride ahead into camp.
I expect I'll be there before sundown.
Well, we'll know where to find you.
What in the hell do you mean by that? That I enjoy a fucking drink? I wasn't aware that's outlawed.
Thanks for looking to the stock, Jane.
Excuse my ill humor.
Certain people wear on my fucking nerves.
She likes me better than she likes you.
I wish to hell I knew what I ever did to get on that woman's wrong side.
- You know a back way into the camp? - Whoa.
We don't go to the camp.
We go home back to Minnesota.
You probably got the right idea.
Jesus Christ Almighty, move it! I can't get to my spot until you finish! You got me circling my wagon like a fly around shit.
We're pretty near done.
We gotta long wait, same as you.
This the first wagon you ever fucking unloaded?! Hold on to my horse, I'll show you how to do it! We know what we're doing.
Put your hat back on and stick with your wagon.
- And what if I don't? - Stand there mouthing off and find out.
Sir I have a commode for your inconvenience.
- You think I'm gonna pay for that? - No, that's free.
From Star & Bullock Hardware, open in Deadwood soon as we locate.
Hurry up and get finished! My father's last words there in Vienna, before he passed away, was "Sol, lose a can to buy the goddamned fool.
You could slow it down and sell 'em at retail.
" I gotta put a book together of your old man's deathbed sayings.
That was Wild Bill Hickok just riding past us, Seth.
I seen him in photographs.
He lost his stake gambling.
He told me before he passed out.
He said he lost his stake and he hadn't found no gold and he was going back East after one last piece of pussy.
None of that's anything to me.
He wakes back up, starts in beating on me.
Where's his stake, where's all his money? You call Danny, you call Johnny.
Must've been me who took it from him.
You don't shoot nobody 'cause that's bad for my business and it's bad for the camp's reputation.
He beat the living shit out of you, didn't he? Do what you gotta do to me.
Don't tell me what to do.
Either way this comes out, we'll only have to do it once.
What's it to be, Trixie? I'll be good.
All right now.
We heard rumors you might be coming, but you can't believe every rumor.
We heard you might be coming from Cheyenne.
- Here I am.
- If every rumor was true we'd all have been scalped now by the Sioux, or the government would've tossed us out as treaty violators.
- E.
B.
Farnum, how do you do? - Charlie Utter.
You got some mighty clammy hands there, partner.
Damp palms run in my family.
Here to prospect, Mr.
Hickok, or on other business? I'm here to get a room.
Could we get two? We're worn out looking at each other.
Separate rooms.
I'll arrange that by tomorrow, but today I can't fix it.
Unless you kill a guest.
Wild Bill Hickok.
Nothing can ever be simple.
He didn't speak of having lawman ambitions, Al.
Starting with Custer getting himself massacred, it's been one thing after another.
Leaves the godless savage cocksucker Sioux on the warpath if that long-haired loudmouth had held his end up, we could be operating here in peace.
The New York dude's downstairs, Al.
- Did he order whiskey? - Yeah.
Did he down it or is he sipping at it? He's sipping.
Why'd I even ask, huh? Go get Tim Driscoll.
Make sure the dude sees you leave.
- What should I tell Tim? - Tell him to get over here.
Tell him he's drunk, sorry for himself, give me five minutes, - then you come back, do your part.
- All right, Al.
As far as Hickok, Al, if I'd have pushed him any harder on his plans, I was afraid he'd shoot me.
- Go get Driscoll.
- Yes, sir.
Handmade! It's all handmade, guaranteed.
It ain't like something's being foisted on 'em they'll be sorry they bought come sun-up.
- I know that.
- These are quality items.
They meet these folk's needs offered at fair markup, and we're announcing their availability.
Brought through Indian country figures into the markup.
By us, at personal peril.
Let's go.
Coming out with your fly down might strike the wrong note.
Come have a look, boys.
Star & Bullock Hardware and Mercantile just opened for business.
We got boots to sell you.
Knee-boots, $10! Hip-boots, 15! We got picks, pans and shovels.
Picks at $12, shovels at 10, and pans at 8! We got plaster cradles, prospector's best friend.
Perfected at the Montana strikes! We got chamber-pots to sell you.
If you don't know what one of those is, the man living next to you will appreciate your finding out.
I'll look at your biggest size hip-boot.
- Got 'em right here.
- We stand by our stock.
Any item that don't do what it's supposed to will be exchanged for one that does.
And we'll be here for you to find us.
Son of a bitch! The man said I might get a prize.
I paid 50c for this bar of soap, there's a $5 prize in the wrapper.
- Where'd you buy that soap at? - Man standing right over there.
Front your game away from our tent.
Cash prizes, every night's case of soap.
Hey, storekeep! Hold me some of those large hip-boots till I get over there - and I'll pay you $2 extra.
- Set prices, boys, and first come, first to be served.
We'll get you squared away.
No free feels in this house.
Brom Garret of Manhattan, scourge of the Deadwood faro tables.
Don't think I confuse two nights holding good cards with being a faro shark.
Two here, Dan.
You you see a finish to that? Did you hear Bill Hickok's in town? Oh yes, I did.
Does that give you the vapors? Are you mad about something, Al? I'm not mad about nothing.
All's I can tell you, things sort out fast in Deadwood.
I vouched for you with Tim Driscoll two hours in here last night when I gather you must have been home in bed, sleeping.
End result, Tim's just about got his claim sold to E.
B.
Farnum.
What? Where's Driscoll now? He ain't here so I'd assume at his hotel.
- You told me he's here by 6:00.
- He ain't yet.
Al, E.
B.
Farnum just saw me here and headed for the door.
I wouldn't know how to interpret that.
I was doing the legwork, Al.
I was doing the due diligence.
You tell me Driscoll's got money troubles, and he's a motivated seller, fair enough.
But how did I know his claim's not played out? - I had to do the legwork.
- I see, fair enough.
- Oh that's what I had to ascertain.
- Did you do the legwork? Al.
For God's sake, close your fist.
Cleaned up during the night with five more just like it from Claim No.
9 above Discovery, panned at the Driscoll claim.
All I can say, Brom, while you were out winning the battle I hope you didn't lose the fucking war.
Al.
Who is that? Tim Driscoll shit-faced.
Let me handle the play.
Oh my God, he is shit-faced.
- Boys? - Whiskeys.
Two whiskeys.
I'm I'm respecting your privacy not saying your name, but I certainly recognize you and I'd like to buy the round.
- Charlie Utter.
- Tom Nuttall, Charlie.
Tom.
It's Bill Hickok.
I seen him kill Phil Coe in Abilene.
Ahem, A.
W.
Merrick, Mr.
Hickok, of the "Deadwood Pioneer.
" - We're drinking whiskey.
- Certainly.
Certainly.
Whiskeys here, Mr.
Nuttall.
I'm gonna say one thing before anybody opens their mouth, and I won't say no more on the subject, and I'll be through for the fucking evening I'm not impressed.
So what brings you to our camp, Mr.
Hickok? May I tell my readers? Warrant out on me in Cheyenne.
Aw, get off of that now, Bill.
Well, I suppose for a man like you, warrants are a vocational hazard.
Calling me a professional vagrant.
- The warrant was for vagrancy? - He's kidding! Anyway, in this camp, warrants don't count.
I'm telling you he's not impressed, all right? Now you may apply that to whoever you feel may be my reference.
And I intend to gut that son of a bitch at poker whenever I get the chance.
You run that game? Can I buy 50 in chips? I do and you can.
Just settle up after you see how your luck runs.
Feel like playing now, Bill, or you wanna take in the rest of the camp? I feel like playing now.
Draw and five stud.
Dealer calls the game.
Sounds fair.
See you later, Charlie.
All right, Bill.
- You boys mind if I sit in? - Not at all, have a seat.
What a grand surprise.
I never thought he'd live long enough for me to meet him.
I need another gun.
What, in case they beat on you? Never mind what for, just take this and get me another gun.
Go on, you can touch my nipples if you want to.
Now Mabel! Mabel! Get your ass across that table! This dollar is not for drink.
- My name's Caroline.
- Well, you'll always be Mabel to me.
Claim No.
9 above Discovery, $14,000, yes or no? $14,000, yes or no? All right, we'll make it 14,000.
Spit in your hand.
Spit in your hand.
- What's his fucking problem? - Aw, nothing.
Done, witnessed.
- Am I too late? - Mm.
No, no, no, but you're too late Farnum.
I just sold to this goose-looking fella for 14,000.
- Will you take 16? - No, thank you, but no.
What a fucking lying cunt you are.
"12 and a half thousand that's every cent I can get hold of, Mr.
Driscoll.
And more than the claim is worth" you said.
standing over a drink.
I believe events will prove that Claim No.
9 above Discovery was worth far more than 16,000, Mr.
Farnum.
Unhand me, Al.
Though, you know, of course, I haven't actually seen - his fucking money yet.
- I'm discounting his banknote.
Dan.
There's $10,000.
I'll weigh four out of the other sack right now.
Al's holding a full faith letter of credit for $20,000 from the Bank of New York.
Full faith is one thing, but until the money has actually passed hands between us, the deal isn't done.
- The deal is done.
- The deal isn't done.
- The deal is done.
- We spat in our hands.
What the fuck would you know?! I'll knock you into the middle of next week.
Now, would you offer me the 16,000? I suppose, if you're open to further offers.
- What the fuck did you just do? - Will you close at 16.
5? - You just reopened the fucking bidding.
- 17,000.
I'll go no farther.
- 18! - 19! I can put together.
Damn it! Damn it! - 20 twice.
- I can't.
It's over, he's through.
- Is it over? - All right.
in the shiny suit.
- I got it, Al.
- Yes, you did.
Comes to look for a business opportunity, and sits there losing at poker.
Is he having a bad run? I can't see that far.
You'd have to see back to Cheyenne.
He lost his patience, stays in hands whether he's holding cards or not.
How's your crowd in here tonight, anyway? Oh, it's all right.
It's better than all right, you could see that much.
Bill Hickok's an asset to any saloon, any joint he frequents.
- You agree with me on that or not? - You got a say in that? - As far as where he drinks and gambles? - Suppose I did? frequent here exclusive.
What a sport you turned out to be.
- You quote a figure.
- Let's come to one understanding.
Any figure I would've come up with, part of that you give to him to gamble or piss away however else he's gonna do it.
That'd be the only part he'd know about.
I'd work with you.
The rest you'd give to me to hold in trust for his future.
- Now that'd be your affair.
- Listen to me, that man's recently married.
He needs to put a stake together.
That's all I'd be in this for.
I'd work with you.
Banish all headaches.
Spit in your hand, Alma! - What? - Spit.
I'm gonna show you something.
Promise you'll tell my mother about this.
I bought it.
We own a gold claim.
This is how we sealed the deal.
And then did everyone dry their hands? Do you know who I was bidding against? Farnum, who owns this hotel.
Oh and where was your secret agent? Dan Dority? He was tending bar.
No one realized how Dan had helped me wreck and order the claim.
Now Swearengen runs the saloon he was intermediary, he brokered the deal.
Driscoll, the seller, legless with liquor.
You will have a vivid entry for an article and I've told you all the details.
Yes, I've already begun to imagine it.
It was a near thing till the end.
I had to go all our 20,000 to turn Farnum away.
Oh well.
I'll have to write the bank to renew my credit.
Of course they'll contact Father.
Well I expect that's inevitable.
Wild Bill Hickok is here.
I'm sure he's going to prospect too.
- How much do you want? - Well, we agreed on 30%.
- 30% of 20 would be six.
- Mm-hmm.
So I want the 6,000.
What's 30% of 14,000? - What the fuck, Al? - Who told you to take him to 20? Well, I could feel that he had more in him.
It was just a spontaneous fucking feeling and I knew that there was more to get.
And you thought six more would be the jackpot, take him from 14 to 20.
Oh Jesus Christ, you know, if you had further plans, I wish you'd have just said something to me.
Should I tell you when I plan to take a shit tomorrow or would that be none of your fucking business? So 14,000.
what is that now 4,200.
What the fuck arrangement do you suggest now? - What do you suggest? - Oh Jesus Christ Almighty! You get in a mood like this and I just as soon as not even discuss it.
Look, let me just have 500, you know, and we'll discuss the rest of it some other fucking time.
Cash or credit at the tables? Fucking time of trial, the fucking English in you comes out.
Fine.
I'll have the 500 at the fucking tables then.
Jesus Christ Almighty! - Are we holding markers? - You're holding markers, all right.
You've been holding markers against my kind for the past several centuries, across both sides of the fucking water! How the fuck do I know?! Ask Dority, he'll know better than me.
Credit it against the fucking markers, but just let me hold 20, in fucking cash.
- Tell Dan to give you 20.
- And a piece of fucking pussy.
Tell Dan, then tell him to come see me.
And thanks for stepping in on the side of right and fucking justice, you deaf dumb bastard! I tell you, Al, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he took him to 20.
Did you see me struggling to stay on the path? My wife and children are in Louisville, Kentucky.
I'm saving to bring them out.
Days I dig on the Foster's water ditch and nights I watch folk's goods like I'm going to do for yours.
Schedule like that seems like you'll have 'em here in no time.
Then sabbaths I preach Christ crucified and raised from the dead.
I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario.
- So you were born in Canada? - I come to Montana when I was 17.
- That's when I met up with Mr.
Star.
- Is that so? I was born in Austria.
Austria? Wonderful where people come from.
I was born in Austria and then I grew up in Chillicothe, Ohio.
And then you partnered with Mr.
Bullock in Montana? That's where we partnered up.
The Lord is our final comfort, but it's a solace having friends.
I know that from past experience.
You sure sold up a storm here tonight, didn't you? - We did all right.
- We'll be a few hours, Mr.
Smith.
We want to look around the camp.
I will watch your goods as if they were my own.
- Thank you, Mr.
Smith.
- Thank you.
Whoa.
I seen a terrible thing tonight.
What'd you see? I seen white people dead and scalped and men, women, and children with their arms and legs hacked off.
Where? How many dead? Well, it was a whole family on the road to Spearfish.
Oh my God, it's them heathen bloodthirsty savages! - How many was it died? - It was the whole family, they was hacked and mutilated.
The parents, two children.
The Metz family took the Spearfish road going home to Minnesota.
Then that was probably them then.
They had three children.
Were there three? There could've been three 'cause they was all hacked and spread around.
Rest their souls.
- Rest their souls.
- Yeah.
You probably need a drink.
You called my bluff, Hickok.
I was trying to run one.
Whoa! Wait on Mary.
I got a third eight under there.
Three eights wins, your pot.
- Oh I absolutely did not realize that.
- Your chips.
Here I am thinking I'm fucking bluffing the third eight, and I mistakenly outdraw the greatest gunfighter in the world.
Meaning the third eight.
- What? - Saying you outdrew me.
You meant the third eight.
Well, what else would I have meant? Say it.
Then we'll play cards.
Third eight's what I meant.
- Deal.
- Ante's up, same again.
Jesus Christ, can we shake hands or something? Relieve the atmosphere? I mean, how stupid do you think I am? I don't know.
I just met you.
The paradox is the massacre at Little Big Horn signaled the Indians' death throes, Mr.
Utter.
History has overtaken the treaty which gave them this land.
Well, the gold we found has overtaken it.
I believe within a year Congress will rescind the Fort Laramie Treaty, Deadwood and these hills will be annexed to the Dakota Territory, and we who have pursued our destiny outside law or statute will be restored to the bosom of the nation.
And that's what I believe.
- Does bosom mean tit? - Same thing.
Ain't nothing against y'all fellas, but I'd as soon do my drinking and getting a piece of ass.
First you want people to know about that family.
Yeah, well, what harm is it in me meeting my needs before I circulate the news? What if the third child is alive? You listen, mister, it was a massacre.
I'm the one who saw it.
And there ain't no one was alive.
Did you see the massacre or not? I told you I got there afterwards.
So by then, the child could've got away from where you saw those other bodies? Or the child could've been hiding and so afraid of who you might be, it didn't call out.
You listen to me, I ain't going back out there again tonight, so you mind your own goddamn business! You're saying a family is massacred by Indians on the road to Spearfish and one child may still be alive - and it's no one's concern - What's this about a massacre? Oh, for Christ's sake! God damn it! I ain't going out there again tonight after I just made camp with my scalp by sheer dumb fucking luck! Ride out and show us the place.
I'll guarantee your scalp.
- You riding? - Yeah.
- We'll ride.
- May I ride? I'd be honored to ride, infirmities permitting.
Here we go.
Wild Bill fucking Hickok.
You were a marshal in Kansas? Yeah.
- And you? - Montana.
- Come to your senses now? - Yes, sir.
The fella's story on this don't hold water.
No, it don't.
- What'd you give Driscoll? - 20 bucks.
Free poke with Wanda.
- Half-smart mick that he is.
- Yeah.
Tim really fucked up with the dude, huh? I guess the dude's case money.
Dude only out here three days.
How's the dude ask his people back home for more? - They're liable to send the Pinkertons.
- So shut the dude down? You being his secret best friend, he'll want you out prospecting in the morning beside him.
That claim needs to pinch out.
Oughtn't take but a couple days, he ain't got much sand.
Tim Driscoll needs to be seen to.
- No kidding now? - No kidding.
Well, not that anybody asked, but I'd look to Trixie for danger before I'd look to Tim.
No kidding! Jimmy says the Sioux massacred a family on the Spearfish road.
A hand come into Nuttall's No.
10 - telling the story, Mr.
Swearengen.
- Who was he? - I never seen him before.
- Can you get him over here? Is he still at Nuttall's? They're riding back out to where it happened.
Hickok and some others were riding with him.
Did the hand look happy to be riding back out with Hickok? He didn't look too happy.
How many people downstairs did you tell about this? - A few.
- A few? You let him tell a few people downstairs before you bring this to me? Al, I brought him as soon as I heard! How many people do you think the people he talked to have talked to by now? I guarantee at this minute my entire fucking action downstairs is fucked up! Nobody's drinking, nobody's gambling, nobody's chasing tail.
I have to deal with that! You want $10 or a bottle of dope? Bottle of dope please, Mr.
Swearengen.
- Give him a bottle of dope.
- Come on, I'll take care of you.
He's got a lot on his mind, Johnny.
Quiet! Al's got words! I guess when it starts pissing rain in here, you know who to blame, huh? I know word's circulating, Indians killed a family on the Spearfish road.
Now it's not for me to tell anyone in this camp what to do, much as I don't want more people getting their throats cut, their scalps lifted, or any other godless thing that these godless bloodthirsty heathens do or even if someone wants to ride out in darkest night, but I will tell you this: I'd use tonight to get myself organized, ride out in the morning, clear-headed, and starting tomorrow morning, I will offer a personal $50 bounty for every decapitated head of as many of these godless heathen cocksuckers as anyone can bring in, tomorrow, with no upper limit! That's all I say on that subject except next round's on the house.
And God rest the souls of that poor family.
Amen.
And pussy's half-price next 15 minutes.
Okay, ladies, let's go.
She must have done some fancy fucking to keep Al from killing her.
Where's Bill Hickok? Where's Charlie Utter? Give me a drink! It's all right, Al, I know you got a lot on your mind.
That was one hell of a good talk.
Look, you got everybody back at the tables, - doing what they do.
- Tell you the truth, for murdering people on the road to Spearfish my money'd be on Persimmon Phil.
Make it look like Indians.
That is his speciality.
Is it true? Indians killing white people? That's the sewer mouth that follows Hickok around.
Why are we standing here? Riding out tomorrow, daybreak.
Oh, really? Tomorrow? What's your fucking rush?! I'm going now.
Even without Bill.
Even without Charlie.
I know the road to Spearfish.
And I don't drink where I'm the only fucking one with balls! Let her go.
She ain't taking any business with her.
And don't forget to kill Tim.
Yah.
Wah! Yah! Get to your room.
You should be sleeping on a goddamn pew.
You in love? Wake up, friend.
Come on now.
You know I don't intrude on the affairs of others.
Problem enough keeping my own life straight.
When something's not my affair, I don't pretend it is.
Contrariwise, if you feel like talking about that headlight I'll pay a dollar a minute to hear you.
Get anything off your chest you feel like.
What I got on my chest don't concern you, Ellsworth.
And fuck us all anyway for the limber-dick cocksuckers we are.
- What is it? - Just hush, Tim.
Doc! Get up! Doc! Doc! Doc! Wake up! Doc! Oh God Wait for me, God damn it! Just hold on till I'm with you.
She don't mean nothing, Doc, she's just excitable.
What kinda hand is your friend with a gun? I don't feel qualified to say.
I guess I done my duty and I was glad enough to help.
Stick around, see if she lives.
Nah, I was glad enough to have done my duty and that little one will be in my prayers.
- Get down off your horse.
- Listen to me.
I'm an innocent man, it it was them Indians, God damn it! Too much ransacking, and too many goods left behind.
Someone was after money.
God damn it, if I had something to do with what happened, why'd I come to this camp, huh? Maybe when it got thick out there you ran.
Maybe the others was going to ground, but you had to have pussy.
And get to a faro layout.
I felt that way sometimes after a kill.
Get down off your horse, or face the consequences.
Was that you or me, Montana? My money'd be on you.
Yeah?
- Journal.
Good.
You know, I was goin' to Deadwood, same as you.
- Is that so? - I had my plans about set.
I only wish to Christ I could get these past three days back.
I can imagine.
No law at all in Deadwood, is that true? Being on Indian land.
So then you won't be a marshal? Taking goods there to open a hardware business, me and my partner.
If I'd have got there, I'd have been prospectin'.
Jesus Christ Almighty.
No law at all, gold you can scoop from the streams with your bare hands, and I gotta go and fuck myself up by supposedly stealing Byron Samson's horse.
It's poor damn timing at the least.
Thank you very much.
You're welcome.
I'm sorry as hell about your shoulder.
Flesh wound.
Don't look like it wants to infect.
Well, never mind flesh wounds, sir, when you are goin' to meet your maker, you don't feature telling him that you shot a marshal in the shoulder for only doing his legally ordained job.
He may have heard worse stories.
God? Well, if he ain't, I'll tell him six or seven just on people of my own personal acquaintance.
I'd like to suggest an idea to you, sir, that I pray as a Christian man you will entertain on its own fuckin' merits.
Does it involve letting you go? I know two scores, Mr.
Bullock, that we could make in transit without moving People with cash on hand, and if once we hit Deadwood and you didn't want to have anything to do with me, we'd never speak again.
We would meet as strangers the rest of our fuckin' lives.
Now you tell me what you think of that, sir.
It don't appeal to me.
Get the fuck out of here for a moment, would you, sir? Byron Samson's comin' for him.
Sir, would you please get the fuck out till we have finished our previous conversation? - How many backing his play? - A dozen, shit-faced.
Samson caved in Tommy Raymond's head at - the No-Name Frog.
He went against it.
- What are you conversing at? Jesus Christ! Come out and talk to us, Bullock! Now who is that? That sounds like Byron Samson.
- Yeah.
- What would he want? Now tell me what kind of fuckin' luck I got.
All you're doing stalling, Bullock, is pissin' me off! 'Cause I guarantee you ain't making it through in there till sun-up! So why don't you climb out from behind your badge, and your big brick building, and you bring Clell Watson out here so we can give him what he fuckin' deserves! What have we got here? Whoa! It's a Jew on a wagon! Yeah, right out here in the alley! I'm executing sentence now and he's hangin' under color of law.
You and your partner plan on making Deadwood, Marshal, do not try for this scaffold.
That's a deal, you loud-mouthed cocksucker! You hear this? Oh! Wait, this ain't right.
My sister was comin' in the morning.
- What would you have her told? - That's not enough of a drop.
I'll strangle for 20 minutes.
I'll help you with the drop.
Get up and say what you'd have your sister told.
Do not tether that rope off of that porch! Any more gunplay gets answered.
You called the law in, Samson.
You don't get to call it off just 'cause you're liquored up and popular on payday.
You don't tell us what to do and what not to do, 'cause you're leaving Montana anyways! Now do not jump off of that stool, you cocksucker! Or what? You'll kill me? You tell my sister if my boy turns up, raise him good.
What else? Tell her give him my boots.
What else? Tell him his daddy loved him.
Tell him he has God's forgiveness.
Anything else? You help me with my fuckin' fall! Come ahead.
Fuck you! Stay back! Move the fuck back, while my partner while my partner's taking his sweet-ass time writing whatever the fuck he's writing over there! Who'll give his last words to the sister? None of you better fucking move! Shit! I'll do it.
Thank you.
- Let's go.
- Hee.
Move ahead! Move out of the way! - Move! - Jesus Christ, come on! - What's going on! - Move it up there! Same damn wagon that broke down yesterday, Bill! That's the hold up, huh? Same wagon and no damn room to maneuver.
Sounds like it's tighter out there than a bull's ass in fly season.
- How's your headache? - Not bad.
You want me to canvass for whiskey? That's all right, Jane.
Believe me, we're stuck here a fucking while.
I know your canvassing techniques.
I don't want any casualties on my conscience.
It's only Wild Bill Hickok you got stalled here in the muck! You ignorant fucking cunts! We're out here the whole goddamn day? What a goddamn circus! Shit.
- We've got no water! - All right, friend.
Let's go! Come on, now, come on, now, come on.
Chickens for sale! $3.
00 a pair.
Get your chickens here.
This lot rents at 20 a day, Seth.
- $20 a day.
- Tent only, no construction.
Corner location.
In advance, every morning, to Mr.
Swearengen at the Gem.
- Where's the Gem? - You'll find it.
Everybody does.
Eight ounces of gold at $20 an ounce is 160 plus $10 for a half-ounce makes 170 total.
Inform your dealers and whores of my credit, and pour me a goddamn drink! Honor and a pleasure, my good man.
for Ellsworth.
Yes, sir, I'll let everybody know.
Lot four, some hardware guys.
First one today with this hand.
And pour me another, my good man.
Here comes another.
- Lot four a stayer? - Wagon loaded with goods.
Now with that limey damn accent of yours, are these rumors true that you're descended from the British nobility? I'm descended from all of them cocksuckers.
Well here's to you, Your Majesty.
I'll tell you what, I may have fucked my life up flatter than hammered shit, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker, and working a paying fucking gold claim.
And not the U.
S.
Government saying I'm trespassing, or the savage fucking red man himself, or any of these limber dick cocksuckers passing themselves off as prospectors had better try and stop me.
They'd better not try it in here.
God damn it, Swearengen, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you, but I enjoy the way you lie.
- Thank you, my good man.
- You're welcome, you conniving, heavy-thumbed motherfucker! Watch out! That's her derringer.
I warned you about that loopy cunt! Keep your own tally! Oh, have no fear on that score.
I said not to beat on me! I told him! Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson - You got any other guns? - No, I don't got any more.
Ticonderoga, New York, Barnett Robinson Ticonderoga, New York did you find it? Barnett Robinson.
That's who to notify if this thing goes wrong.
Yeah, I've got it right here.
- How you doing, Trixie? - I told him, don't beat on me, Doc! - No one asked for your version! - Said I robbed him and he started beating on me.
And I didn't rob you! - I don't remember.
- I didn't, God damn it! Aw, she shot me right in the head.
D-don't put your fingers in it.
Oh yeah, is it bad, Doc? Shh, shh, shh.
Get the Chinaman! Sure would like to know how he lasted for 20 minutes.
Shot straight to the brain.
So prospect in him till Dan brings the Chinaman.
Do you mind if I take him to my place? Sure.
Help the doc with this guy, bring the Chinaman to the Doc's.
I'll bring that sled right in, Doc.
Doc, you drink free today.
And I hope any word of this would keep the gun out of the whore's hand.
- That wouldn't come from me.
- Bastard did himself in.
- Come here.
- I said to stop.
Tell me in my office.
Get the gimp to clean this place up.
Ugh, Doc! You know there's something peculiar about this man's cerebral setup or they can just write off the forebrain as being the center of thought and speech.
Let's just get him on the sled.
Of course it won't matter to Mr.
Wu's pigs.
Whiskey.
I've got an urge to see that camp, Charlie.
All right - Can we leave you with the stock, Jane? - Yeah.
Bill and me are gonna ride ahead into camp.
I expect I'll be there before sundown.
Well, we'll know where to find you.
What in the hell do you mean by that? That I enjoy a fucking drink? I wasn't aware that's outlawed.
Thanks for looking to the stock, Jane.
Excuse my ill humor.
Certain people wear on my fucking nerves.
She likes me better than she likes you.
I wish to hell I knew what I ever did to get on that woman's wrong side.
- You know a back way into the camp? - Whoa.
We don't go to the camp.
We go home back to Minnesota.
You probably got the right idea.
Jesus Christ Almighty, move it! I can't get to my spot until you finish! You got me circling my wagon like a fly around shit.
We're pretty near done.
We gotta long wait, same as you.
This the first wagon you ever fucking unloaded?! Hold on to my horse, I'll show you how to do it! We know what we're doing.
Put your hat back on and stick with your wagon.
- And what if I don't? - Stand there mouthing off and find out.
Sir I have a commode for your inconvenience.
- You think I'm gonna pay for that? - No, that's free.
From Star & Bullock Hardware, open in Deadwood soon as we locate.
Hurry up and get finished! My father's last words there in Vienna, before he passed away, was "Sol, lose a can to buy the goddamned fool.
You could slow it down and sell 'em at retail.
" I gotta put a book together of your old man's deathbed sayings.
That was Wild Bill Hickok just riding past us, Seth.
I seen him in photographs.
He lost his stake gambling.
He told me before he passed out.
He said he lost his stake and he hadn't found no gold and he was going back East after one last piece of pussy.
None of that's anything to me.
He wakes back up, starts in beating on me.
Where's his stake, where's all his money? You call Danny, you call Johnny.
Must've been me who took it from him.
You don't shoot nobody 'cause that's bad for my business and it's bad for the camp's reputation.
He beat the living shit out of you, didn't he? Do what you gotta do to me.
Don't tell me what to do.
Either way this comes out, we'll only have to do it once.
What's it to be, Trixie? I'll be good.
All right now.
We heard rumors you might be coming, but you can't believe every rumor.
We heard you might be coming from Cheyenne.
- Here I am.
- If every rumor was true we'd all have been scalped now by the Sioux, or the government would've tossed us out as treaty violators.
- E.
B.
Farnum, how do you do? - Charlie Utter.
You got some mighty clammy hands there, partner.
Damp palms run in my family.
Here to prospect, Mr.
Hickok, or on other business? I'm here to get a room.
Could we get two? We're worn out looking at each other.
Separate rooms.
I'll arrange that by tomorrow, but today I can't fix it.
Unless you kill a guest.
Wild Bill Hickok.
Nothing can ever be simple.
He didn't speak of having lawman ambitions, Al.
Starting with Custer getting himself massacred, it's been one thing after another.
Leaves the godless savage cocksucker Sioux on the warpath if that long-haired loudmouth had held his end up, we could be operating here in peace.
The New York dude's downstairs, Al.
- Did he order whiskey? - Yeah.
Did he down it or is he sipping at it? He's sipping.
Why'd I even ask, huh? Go get Tim Driscoll.
Make sure the dude sees you leave.
- What should I tell Tim? - Tell him to get over here.
Tell him he's drunk, sorry for himself, give me five minutes, - then you come back, do your part.
- All right, Al.
As far as Hickok, Al, if I'd have pushed him any harder on his plans, I was afraid he'd shoot me.
- Go get Driscoll.
- Yes, sir.
Handmade! It's all handmade, guaranteed.
It ain't like something's being foisted on 'em they'll be sorry they bought come sun-up.
- I know that.
- These are quality items.
They meet these folk's needs offered at fair markup, and we're announcing their availability.
Brought through Indian country figures into the markup.
By us, at personal peril.
Let's go.
Coming out with your fly down might strike the wrong note.
Come have a look, boys.
Star & Bullock Hardware and Mercantile just opened for business.
We got boots to sell you.
Knee-boots, $10! Hip-boots, 15! We got picks, pans and shovels.
Picks at $12, shovels at 10, and pans at 8! We got plaster cradles, prospector's best friend.
Perfected at the Montana strikes! We got chamber-pots to sell you.
If you don't know what one of those is, the man living next to you will appreciate your finding out.
I'll look at your biggest size hip-boot.
- Got 'em right here.
- We stand by our stock.
Any item that don't do what it's supposed to will be exchanged for one that does.
And we'll be here for you to find us.
Son of a bitch! The man said I might get a prize.
I paid 50c for this bar of soap, there's a $5 prize in the wrapper.
- Where'd you buy that soap at? - Man standing right over there.
Front your game away from our tent.
Cash prizes, every night's case of soap.
Hey, storekeep! Hold me some of those large hip-boots till I get over there - and I'll pay you $2 extra.
- Set prices, boys, and first come, first to be served.
We'll get you squared away.
No free feels in this house.
Brom Garret of Manhattan, scourge of the Deadwood faro tables.
Don't think I confuse two nights holding good cards with being a faro shark.
Two here, Dan.
You you see a finish to that? Did you hear Bill Hickok's in town? Oh yes, I did.
Does that give you the vapors? Are you mad about something, Al? I'm not mad about nothing.
All's I can tell you, things sort out fast in Deadwood.
I vouched for you with Tim Driscoll two hours in here last night when I gather you must have been home in bed, sleeping.
End result, Tim's just about got his claim sold to E.
B.
Farnum.
What? Where's Driscoll now? He ain't here so I'd assume at his hotel.
- You told me he's here by 6:00.
- He ain't yet.
Al, E.
B.
Farnum just saw me here and headed for the door.
I wouldn't know how to interpret that.
I was doing the legwork, Al.
I was doing the due diligence.
You tell me Driscoll's got money troubles, and he's a motivated seller, fair enough.
But how did I know his claim's not played out? - I had to do the legwork.
- I see, fair enough.
- Oh that's what I had to ascertain.
- Did you do the legwork? Al.
For God's sake, close your fist.
Cleaned up during the night with five more just like it from Claim No.
9 above Discovery, panned at the Driscoll claim.
All I can say, Brom, while you were out winning the battle I hope you didn't lose the fucking war.
Al.
Who is that? Tim Driscoll shit-faced.
Let me handle the play.
Oh my God, he is shit-faced.
- Boys? - Whiskeys.
Two whiskeys.
I'm I'm respecting your privacy not saying your name, but I certainly recognize you and I'd like to buy the round.
- Charlie Utter.
- Tom Nuttall, Charlie.
Tom.
It's Bill Hickok.
I seen him kill Phil Coe in Abilene.
Ahem, A.
W.
Merrick, Mr.
Hickok, of the "Deadwood Pioneer.
" - We're drinking whiskey.
- Certainly.
Certainly.
Whiskeys here, Mr.
Nuttall.
I'm gonna say one thing before anybody opens their mouth, and I won't say no more on the subject, and I'll be through for the fucking evening I'm not impressed.
So what brings you to our camp, Mr.
Hickok? May I tell my readers? Warrant out on me in Cheyenne.
Aw, get off of that now, Bill.
Well, I suppose for a man like you, warrants are a vocational hazard.
Calling me a professional vagrant.
- The warrant was for vagrancy? - He's kidding! Anyway, in this camp, warrants don't count.
I'm telling you he's not impressed, all right? Now you may apply that to whoever you feel may be my reference.
And I intend to gut that son of a bitch at poker whenever I get the chance.
You run that game? Can I buy 50 in chips? I do and you can.
Just settle up after you see how your luck runs.
Feel like playing now, Bill, or you wanna take in the rest of the camp? I feel like playing now.
Draw and five stud.
Dealer calls the game.
Sounds fair.
See you later, Charlie.
All right, Bill.
- You boys mind if I sit in? - Not at all, have a seat.
What a grand surprise.
I never thought he'd live long enough for me to meet him.
I need another gun.
What, in case they beat on you? Never mind what for, just take this and get me another gun.
Go on, you can touch my nipples if you want to.
Now Mabel! Mabel! Get your ass across that table! This dollar is not for drink.
- My name's Caroline.
- Well, you'll always be Mabel to me.
Claim No.
9 above Discovery, $14,000, yes or no? $14,000, yes or no? All right, we'll make it 14,000.
Spit in your hand.
Spit in your hand.
- What's his fucking problem? - Aw, nothing.
Done, witnessed.
- Am I too late? - Mm.
No, no, no, but you're too late Farnum.
I just sold to this goose-looking fella for 14,000.
- Will you take 16? - No, thank you, but no.
What a fucking lying cunt you are.
"12 and a half thousand that's every cent I can get hold of, Mr.
Driscoll.
And more than the claim is worth" you said.
standing over a drink.
I believe events will prove that Claim No.
9 above Discovery was worth far more than 16,000, Mr.
Farnum.
Unhand me, Al.
Though, you know, of course, I haven't actually seen - his fucking money yet.
- I'm discounting his banknote.
Dan.
There's $10,000.
I'll weigh four out of the other sack right now.
Al's holding a full faith letter of credit for $20,000 from the Bank of New York.
Full faith is one thing, but until the money has actually passed hands between us, the deal isn't done.
- The deal is done.
- The deal isn't done.
- The deal is done.
- We spat in our hands.
What the fuck would you know?! I'll knock you into the middle of next week.
Now, would you offer me the 16,000? I suppose, if you're open to further offers.
- What the fuck did you just do? - Will you close at 16.
5? - You just reopened the fucking bidding.
- 17,000.
I'll go no farther.
- 18! - 19! I can put together.
Damn it! Damn it! - 20 twice.
- I can't.
It's over, he's through.
- Is it over? - All right.
in the shiny suit.
- I got it, Al.
- Yes, you did.
Comes to look for a business opportunity, and sits there losing at poker.
Is he having a bad run? I can't see that far.
You'd have to see back to Cheyenne.
He lost his patience, stays in hands whether he's holding cards or not.
How's your crowd in here tonight, anyway? Oh, it's all right.
It's better than all right, you could see that much.
Bill Hickok's an asset to any saloon, any joint he frequents.
- You agree with me on that or not? - You got a say in that? - As far as where he drinks and gambles? - Suppose I did? frequent here exclusive.
What a sport you turned out to be.
- You quote a figure.
- Let's come to one understanding.
Any figure I would've come up with, part of that you give to him to gamble or piss away however else he's gonna do it.
That'd be the only part he'd know about.
I'd work with you.
The rest you'd give to me to hold in trust for his future.
- Now that'd be your affair.
- Listen to me, that man's recently married.
He needs to put a stake together.
That's all I'd be in this for.
I'd work with you.
Banish all headaches.
Spit in your hand, Alma! - What? - Spit.
I'm gonna show you something.
Promise you'll tell my mother about this.
I bought it.
We own a gold claim.
This is how we sealed the deal.
And then did everyone dry their hands? Do you know who I was bidding against? Farnum, who owns this hotel.
Oh and where was your secret agent? Dan Dority? He was tending bar.
No one realized how Dan had helped me wreck and order the claim.
Now Swearengen runs the saloon he was intermediary, he brokered the deal.
Driscoll, the seller, legless with liquor.
You will have a vivid entry for an article and I've told you all the details.
Yes, I've already begun to imagine it.
It was a near thing till the end.
I had to go all our 20,000 to turn Farnum away.
Oh well.
I'll have to write the bank to renew my credit.
Of course they'll contact Father.
Well I expect that's inevitable.
Wild Bill Hickok is here.
I'm sure he's going to prospect too.
- How much do you want? - Well, we agreed on 30%.
- 30% of 20 would be six.
- Mm-hmm.
So I want the 6,000.
What's 30% of 14,000? - What the fuck, Al? - Who told you to take him to 20? Well, I could feel that he had more in him.
It was just a spontaneous fucking feeling and I knew that there was more to get.
And you thought six more would be the jackpot, take him from 14 to 20.
Oh Jesus Christ, you know, if you had further plans, I wish you'd have just said something to me.
Should I tell you when I plan to take a shit tomorrow or would that be none of your fucking business? So 14,000.
what is that now 4,200.
What the fuck arrangement do you suggest now? - What do you suggest? - Oh Jesus Christ Almighty! You get in a mood like this and I just as soon as not even discuss it.
Look, let me just have 500, you know, and we'll discuss the rest of it some other fucking time.
Cash or credit at the tables? Fucking time of trial, the fucking English in you comes out.
Fine.
I'll have the 500 at the fucking tables then.
Jesus Christ Almighty! - Are we holding markers? - You're holding markers, all right.
You've been holding markers against my kind for the past several centuries, across both sides of the fucking water! How the fuck do I know?! Ask Dority, he'll know better than me.
Credit it against the fucking markers, but just let me hold 20, in fucking cash.
- Tell Dan to give you 20.
- And a piece of fucking pussy.
Tell Dan, then tell him to come see me.
And thanks for stepping in on the side of right and fucking justice, you deaf dumb bastard! I tell you, Al, you could have knocked me over with a feather when he took him to 20.
Did you see me struggling to stay on the path? My wife and children are in Louisville, Kentucky.
I'm saving to bring them out.
Days I dig on the Foster's water ditch and nights I watch folk's goods like I'm going to do for yours.
Schedule like that seems like you'll have 'em here in no time.
Then sabbaths I preach Christ crucified and raised from the dead.
I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario.
- So you were born in Canada? - I come to Montana when I was 17.
- That's when I met up with Mr.
Star.
- Is that so? I was born in Austria.
Austria? Wonderful where people come from.
I was born in Austria and then I grew up in Chillicothe, Ohio.
And then you partnered with Mr.
Bullock in Montana? That's where we partnered up.
The Lord is our final comfort, but it's a solace having friends.
I know that from past experience.
You sure sold up a storm here tonight, didn't you? - We did all right.
- We'll be a few hours, Mr.
Smith.
We want to look around the camp.
I will watch your goods as if they were my own.
- Thank you, Mr.
Smith.
- Thank you.
Whoa.
I seen a terrible thing tonight.
What'd you see? I seen white people dead and scalped and men, women, and children with their arms and legs hacked off.
Where? How many dead? Well, it was a whole family on the road to Spearfish.
Oh my God, it's them heathen bloodthirsty savages! - How many was it died? - It was the whole family, they was hacked and mutilated.
The parents, two children.
The Metz family took the Spearfish road going home to Minnesota.
Then that was probably them then.
They had three children.
Were there three? There could've been three 'cause they was all hacked and spread around.
Rest their souls.
- Rest their souls.
- Yeah.
You probably need a drink.
You called my bluff, Hickok.
I was trying to run one.
Whoa! Wait on Mary.
I got a third eight under there.
Three eights wins, your pot.
- Oh I absolutely did not realize that.
- Your chips.
Here I am thinking I'm fucking bluffing the third eight, and I mistakenly outdraw the greatest gunfighter in the world.
Meaning the third eight.
- What? - Saying you outdrew me.
You meant the third eight.
Well, what else would I have meant? Say it.
Then we'll play cards.
Third eight's what I meant.
- Deal.
- Ante's up, same again.
Jesus Christ, can we shake hands or something? Relieve the atmosphere? I mean, how stupid do you think I am? I don't know.
I just met you.
The paradox is the massacre at Little Big Horn signaled the Indians' death throes, Mr.
Utter.
History has overtaken the treaty which gave them this land.
Well, the gold we found has overtaken it.
I believe within a year Congress will rescind the Fort Laramie Treaty, Deadwood and these hills will be annexed to the Dakota Territory, and we who have pursued our destiny outside law or statute will be restored to the bosom of the nation.
And that's what I believe.
- Does bosom mean tit? - Same thing.
Ain't nothing against y'all fellas, but I'd as soon do my drinking and getting a piece of ass.
First you want people to know about that family.
Yeah, well, what harm is it in me meeting my needs before I circulate the news? What if the third child is alive? You listen, mister, it was a massacre.
I'm the one who saw it.
And there ain't no one was alive.
Did you see the massacre or not? I told you I got there afterwards.
So by then, the child could've got away from where you saw those other bodies? Or the child could've been hiding and so afraid of who you might be, it didn't call out.
You listen to me, I ain't going back out there again tonight, so you mind your own goddamn business! You're saying a family is massacred by Indians on the road to Spearfish and one child may still be alive - and it's no one's concern - What's this about a massacre? Oh, for Christ's sake! God damn it! I ain't going out there again tonight after I just made camp with my scalp by sheer dumb fucking luck! Ride out and show us the place.
I'll guarantee your scalp.
- You riding? - Yeah.
- We'll ride.
- May I ride? I'd be honored to ride, infirmities permitting.
Here we go.
Wild Bill fucking Hickok.
You were a marshal in Kansas? Yeah.
- And you? - Montana.
- Come to your senses now? - Yes, sir.
The fella's story on this don't hold water.
No, it don't.
- What'd you give Driscoll? - 20 bucks.
Free poke with Wanda.
- Half-smart mick that he is.
- Yeah.
Tim really fucked up with the dude, huh? I guess the dude's case money.
Dude only out here three days.
How's the dude ask his people back home for more? - They're liable to send the Pinkertons.
- So shut the dude down? You being his secret best friend, he'll want you out prospecting in the morning beside him.
That claim needs to pinch out.
Oughtn't take but a couple days, he ain't got much sand.
Tim Driscoll needs to be seen to.
- No kidding now? - No kidding.
Well, not that anybody asked, but I'd look to Trixie for danger before I'd look to Tim.
No kidding! Jimmy says the Sioux massacred a family on the Spearfish road.
A hand come into Nuttall's No.
10 - telling the story, Mr.
Swearengen.
- Who was he? - I never seen him before.
- Can you get him over here? Is he still at Nuttall's? They're riding back out to where it happened.
Hickok and some others were riding with him.
Did the hand look happy to be riding back out with Hickok? He didn't look too happy.
How many people downstairs did you tell about this? - A few.
- A few? You let him tell a few people downstairs before you bring this to me? Al, I brought him as soon as I heard! How many people do you think the people he talked to have talked to by now? I guarantee at this minute my entire fucking action downstairs is fucked up! Nobody's drinking, nobody's gambling, nobody's chasing tail.
I have to deal with that! You want $10 or a bottle of dope? Bottle of dope please, Mr.
Swearengen.
- Give him a bottle of dope.
- Come on, I'll take care of you.
He's got a lot on his mind, Johnny.
Quiet! Al's got words! I guess when it starts pissing rain in here, you know who to blame, huh? I know word's circulating, Indians killed a family on the Spearfish road.
Now it's not for me to tell anyone in this camp what to do, much as I don't want more people getting their throats cut, their scalps lifted, or any other godless thing that these godless bloodthirsty heathens do or even if someone wants to ride out in darkest night, but I will tell you this: I'd use tonight to get myself organized, ride out in the morning, clear-headed, and starting tomorrow morning, I will offer a personal $50 bounty for every decapitated head of as many of these godless heathen cocksuckers as anyone can bring in, tomorrow, with no upper limit! That's all I say on that subject except next round's on the house.
And God rest the souls of that poor family.
Amen.
And pussy's half-price next 15 minutes.
Okay, ladies, let's go.
She must have done some fancy fucking to keep Al from killing her.
Where's Bill Hickok? Where's Charlie Utter? Give me a drink! It's all right, Al, I know you got a lot on your mind.
That was one hell of a good talk.
Look, you got everybody back at the tables, - doing what they do.
- Tell you the truth, for murdering people on the road to Spearfish my money'd be on Persimmon Phil.
Make it look like Indians.
That is his speciality.
Is it true? Indians killing white people? That's the sewer mouth that follows Hickok around.
Why are we standing here? Riding out tomorrow, daybreak.
Oh, really? Tomorrow? What's your fucking rush?! I'm going now.
Even without Bill.
Even without Charlie.
I know the road to Spearfish.
And I don't drink where I'm the only fucking one with balls! Let her go.
She ain't taking any business with her.
And don't forget to kill Tim.
Yah.
Wah! Yah! Get to your room.
You should be sleeping on a goddamn pew.
You in love? Wake up, friend.
Come on now.
You know I don't intrude on the affairs of others.
Problem enough keeping my own life straight.
When something's not my affair, I don't pretend it is.
Contrariwise, if you feel like talking about that headlight I'll pay a dollar a minute to hear you.
Get anything off your chest you feel like.
What I got on my chest don't concern you, Ellsworth.
And fuck us all anyway for the limber-dick cocksuckers we are.
- What is it? - Just hush, Tim.
Doc! Get up! Doc! Doc! Doc! Wake up! Doc! Oh God Wait for me, God damn it! Just hold on till I'm with you.
She don't mean nothing, Doc, she's just excitable.
What kinda hand is your friend with a gun? I don't feel qualified to say.
I guess I done my duty and I was glad enough to help.
Stick around, see if she lives.
Nah, I was glad enough to have done my duty and that little one will be in my prayers.
- Get down off your horse.
- Listen to me.
I'm an innocent man, it it was them Indians, God damn it! Too much ransacking, and too many goods left behind.
Someone was after money.
God damn it, if I had something to do with what happened, why'd I come to this camp, huh? Maybe when it got thick out there you ran.
Maybe the others was going to ground, but you had to have pussy.
And get to a faro layout.
I felt that way sometimes after a kill.
Get down off your horse, or face the consequences.
Was that you or me, Montana? My money'd be on you.
Yeah?